


The Handymann

by holtzbabe



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Handyman AU, You can probably see where this is going, erin lives in a nice house in the suburbs somewhere, fourth wall what's a fourth wall, holtz does odd jobs, this does not take place in NYC, this fic brought to you by me watching the x-files for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:33:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe
Summary: There, on the front steps, was a woman with wild blonde hair, filthy overalls, yellow-lensed glasses, and a toolbox at her feet.“Room service,” she called cheerfully.Erin took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sorry, hi, who are you?”The woman extended a hand. “Holtzmann. Handyhuman extraordinaire. I hear you’ve got a hole in your wall?”Or, the handyman AU.





	1. The Hole in the Wall

“Sean, that is an excellent question. As you can see from my calculations—”

The loud ring of the lunch bell cut Erin off mid sentence and she sighed. The room was already bustling as the students scrambled to pack up their notebooks. There was no getting them back now.

“Don’t forget, we have a quiz on Thursday. We’ll go over this again tomorrow. Sean, if you’d like some help before then, you’re more than welcome to stay and…oh, no, heading out? Having your lunch elsewhere. That’s cool. I’ll be here!” Erin sunk down into her desk chair in resignation as the last student disappeared out the door. She stared around the now-empty classroom for a few moments as the sound of locker clangs reverberated from out in the hall. Then she reached down into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her lunch kit.

She was gnawing on a rather dry peanut butter sandwich and reading a trashy romance novel when there was a rapping on the door. She dropped the book to the floor and looked up eagerly, then her face fell when she saw that it wasn’t an inquisitive student.

“Ay, Erin, why don’t you come eat with us in the staff room today? Must be mad lonely sitting up in here every day.” The school’s history teacher, Patty Tolan, was leaning in the doorframe.

“No, thank you. I need to be here in case any students come by for help.” Erin held up her sandwich as if that was proof.

Patty gave her a look. “When was the last time a student came in at lunch?”

Erin’s eye twitched. “Friday,” she lied.

“Bullshit. Come on now, this is making Patty sad. Come eat with us. Come on, girl. Don’t make me drag you down there myself.”

With a long sigh, Erin packed her sandwich into her lunch kit and stood.

In the staff room, Erin greeted everyone and noted who was missing. The drama teacher, who she’d had a crush on since he’d started on that September, was nowhere to be found. He was the reason she no longer ate in the staff room. There had been one too many times where Erin needed to be reminded that she had a fiancé.

“Erin! We’ve missed you down here.” Abby Yates, the gym teacher and Erin’s closest colleague, was microwaving some sort of soup.

Erin took a seat at the table and unpacked her sandwich again. “Yes, well, my students need me. The final is fast approaching, and they—Kevin!”

The elusive drama teacher had just walked in. He waved as he beelined for the counter. “Erwin! Hi!”

“It’s Erin.”

“How’s geography?” He beamed and didn’t show any indication that he’d heard her correction.

“Geo—Kevin, I don’t teach geography.”

He picked up a mug that Erin was pretty sure Abby had just poured for herself. “Really? That’s a bummer. I thought maybe you could help me with these shapes I’ve been seeing, because—” He spat the mouthful of coffee he’d just sipped back into the mug. “Oh God, I hate coffee.”

He set the mug back down with a thud and disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared, swiping at his tongue as he left.

“Bye!” Erin called after him.

Abby shot her a long look as she dumped the coffee into the sink and then came to sit with her soup across from Erin.

“So, what’s new with you, Erin?” Patty asked from behind her magazine.

“Well, we have a quiz on Thursday, and I’m pretty sure none of the students are ready.”

“Dear God. What’s new with _you,_ Erin? You, the person. I don’t care about your class. No offence.”

Erin’s face coloured. “Oh. Um.” She looked to Abby for guidance, but her friend was quietly cursing her soup for not being heated evenly.

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Patty prompted.

Erin made a face. “We still haven’t set a date.”

“Oh?” Patty must’ve been able to tell that Erin didn’t want to talk about it, because she moved on. “What else is going on with you, then?”

Erin thought for a moment, chewing her sandwich thoughtfully. There was peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Oh, we’ve got a busted wall. I need to hire someone to fix it. I don’t know if I should turn to the Yellow Pages or the Internet first. Any thoughts?”

Patty blinked. “Man, y’all have boring-ass lives. Forget I asked.”

Erin returned to scraping the peanut butter off the roof of her mouth with her tongue.

Abby looked up. “You need a handyman? I know someone. They’ll help you out, and for cheap, too.”

“Really? That would be great! That would save me the headache of searching for someone. Do you have his phone number?”

“Not on me. Why don’t I pass along your info tonight?”

“Sounds great, Abs.” Erin folded up the clingwrap from her sandwich. “I’d better head back upstairs now, just in case a student is waiting for me. I’ll see you ladies later!”

As she was leaving, she could almost swore she heard Patty mutter, “What a sad life that woman leads.”

***

Erin was watching a movie and trying to distract herself from how empty the house felt when the doorbell rang. That was weird. Who would be ringing her doorbell at 8:00 at night? For a second, she let herself hope that it was Phil, but that wouldn’t make sense. He had a key. She paused the movie.

She lived in a good neighbourhood, so she wasn’t particularly worried, but she still opened the door with caution.

There, on the front steps, was a woman with wild blonde hair, filthy overalls, yellow-lensed glasses, and a toolbox at her feet.

“Room service,” she called cheerfully.

Erin took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sorry, hi, who are you?”

The woman extended a hand. “Holtzmann. Handyhuman extraordinaire. I hear you’ve got a hole in your wall?”

Erin returned the shake with a tilt of her head. “But I didn’t…who gave you this address?”

“Abby Yates did?” The woman’s cocky grin faded. “Is this not the right place? Are you not Erin Gilbert?”

Erin’s jaw fell open. “I’m going to kill you, Abby,” she said under her breath. “She was supposed to give you my _phone number_ , not my home address. Do you always show up at places unannounced?”

Holtzmann leveled her gaze over the rims of her yellow glasses. “I’m sensing a bit of hostility. Abby told me that you needed a wall fixed and that I should go over right away. I figured you knew. My apologies. Would you like me to leave?”

That stare was so _intense_. Was she even blinking? “No, I…if you’re already here, I guess you may as well come in and take a look.”

With a satisfied smirk, the woman hoisted up her tool box and stepped past Erin into the house. “You know, if you wanted me to have your number so badly, maybe you should’ve given it to me yourself.”

Erin stared after her in amazement. She shut the door and crossed her arms. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

Holtzmann winked. “So, why don’t you show me this hole of yours?”

Erin blushed but lead her into the living room. She gestured at the hole, about two inches in diameter.

“Oh, that’ll be easy to patch up for ya. I was picturing a cavern.” Holtzmann grinned and set her toolbox down. “Are you watching Ghostbusters?”

Erin glanced at the paused movie. “It was on TV.”

Holtzmann hummed a few bars of the theme song. “Put it on! I love that movie. Bill Murray? Dan Aykroyd? _Sigourney Weaver?_ Genius. Hey!” She pointed excitedly at the wall. “Wall busters!”

Erin forced a sarcastic smile. “Funny.” She picked up the remote and hit play.

“Is that coconut I smell?” Holtzmann sniffed the air exaggeratedly as she dug through her toolbox.

Erin glanced back at the empty pina colada glass on the end table. “No.” She didn’t need this woman judging her any more than she already was.

“Hm. Maybe my trusty snoot has failed me. I’ve been meaning to pick up a replacement.”

Erin was silent.

Holtzmann turned and appraised her. “That was a joke. Yikes, remind me never to invite you to one of my comedy shows.”

“You do comedy?” Erin asked warily.

“At this little place…you’ve probably never heard of it. It’s a real _hole in the wall_.” Holtzmann smirked and raised one eyebrow.

Erin laughed, a real, proper laugh. “Actually, or did you just make that up for that joke?”

“I’ll let you figure that out. A woman’s gotta have some mystery to her, right?” Holtzmann grinned easily. “Speaking of holes in walls, how did this one happen?” She jabbed her thumb at the wall.

Erin bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” The confusion on her face morphed into comprehension. “Oooh. I getcha. You don’t wanna tell me. Sex accident?”

Erin nearly choked. “What? No!”

“Suuure.” Holtzmann shot finger guns. “Your secret’s safe with me, chickadee.”

She began working on the wall and Erin retreated to the couch. She wasn’t watching the movie, not really, but she didn’t want to hover.

“So. Isn’t this the kind of thing that your husband should be fixing?” the woman said casually.

Erin stiffened. “Fiancé,” she correctly automatically. She muted the movie and turned, crossing her arms. “How did you—”

“I don’t mean to alarm you, but you’ve got a rock the size of Pluto taking up prime real estate on your hand.” Holtzmann didn’t even turn from her spot to look at Erin.

“Well,” Erin said indignantly, “I’ll have you know that Phil is not a very ‘hands on’ type of guy. Not every man is. How dare you assume that a man is the only one who can fix this.”

At that, Holtzmann finally looked at her, then very purposefully down at herself, then back at Erin. “I assumed…that a man is the only one who can fix this? That’s an airtight argument, there.”

Erin blushed and rose from the couch. “That’s not what I meant to say. I meant, how dare you assume that I need a man. Who’s to say that _I_ couldn’t fix something like this? What, you just assumed that I’m some sort of housewife who can’t tell the difference between a hammer and a screwdriver?”

The woman slowly set down her tools and turned to fully face Erin. “Of course you _could_ fix it, but the fact remains that you hired me to do it. I didn’t mean to imply anything. You’re clearly a working woman, and a hard-working one that that. Probably something in academia, judging by the amount of tweed on your person. I’d guess university professor. You’re very dedicated to your job and you work long hours. You’re not getting enough sleep, judging by the dark marks under your eyes, and you’re stressed, which is evident from the empty pina colada glass—yeah, can’t fool me. You don’t have the time nor the energy to fix something like this, but you could if you did. You have the determination to figure it out.”

Erin was stunned. “If you could gather all that, why would you make that comment about my husband fixing stuff?”

“Well, even though working men also don’t have the time or energy—or even the expertise most of the time—they still try to fix stuff like this to prove something. Insecure masculinity at its finest and most productive.”

Erin just blinked.

“So, did I paint a correct picture?”

Erin tugged at the hem of her blazer. “I teach high school math. I’m not a university professor.”

“I should’ve guessed. That’s so much better! They’ll let any old riffraff be a professor, but it takes a special kind of person to _choose_ the path of an educator.” Holtzmann smiled.

“How did you _do_ that?”

“What, figure you out?” She shrugged. “I’m good at reading people.”

“You really are,” Erin murmured. “I guess I should let you get to work and stop freaking out at you about nothing. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Bad day?”

Erin glanced at the hole in the wall. “Something like that.”

“Well, I don’t mind talking. But if you just want to get back to your movie, then I’ll be as silent as a ghost.” She picked up her tools as if to prove her point.

The corner of Erin’s mouth twitched up. “I don’t think ghosts are very silent.”

“Excuse me for trying to fit in a relevant simile.” Holtzmann grinned back.

Erin laughed. “So how do you know Abby?”

“Oh, you know.” She waved her hand vaguely. “You? All she said was that you were an old friend.”

“Since high school,” Erin confirmed. “The same high school we both teach at now, actually. Are you from around here?”

Holtzmann shook her head. “Transplant. I was passing through whilst on a road trip many moons ago, and I kinda just…never left.”

Erin cocked her head. “Huh. Weird.”

“I try.”

They fell silent except for the sound of Holtzmann working on the wall.

“Can I get you a glass of water or anything?” Erin offered.

“I’ll take one of those pina coladas, if you’ve got any left.” Holtzmann winked.

Erin flushed. “I drank it all. I’m sorry.”

“I’m kidding. Water would be great.”

Erin excused herself to the kitchen and filled a glass with the fridge’s water dispenser. She set it down on the counter and grabbed the landline to check if there were any messages. Maybe he had called and she had just…missed it.

The display said zero missed calls. With a sigh, she dialed his number again and listened to it go straight to voicemail.

“Hey, honey,” she said, keeping her voice down so Holtzmann wouldn’t overhear her, “it’s me again. Still wondering where you are or when you’re coming home. Please call me so I know that you’re safe. Love you, bye.” She hung up, grabbed the glass of water, and went back to the living room.

“Quite the house you’ve got here,” Holtzmann said as she took the glass. She took a long swig and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Is it your fiancé’s? I mean no offence by assuming…I only ask because I know that teachers are paid exponentially lower salaries than they deserve, and well…this place is huge.”

Erin perched on the armrest of the couch. “That’s an awfully personal question, isn’t it?”

Holtzmann shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

Erin glanced at the still-muted movie, which looked like it was almost over. “It’s mine. I grew up here. My parents couldn’t decide who should get the house in the divorce, so they gifted it to me to save the fight.”

Holtzmann paused with her hand on the wall. “Oh. You’re right, that was a more personal question than I thought it was.”

Erin bit her lip. “It’s fine.”

They fell silent again. Erin turned the volume on the movie back up. She watched the last ten minutes play out while Holtzmann worked quietly.

It was as the credits were rolling that the phone rang. Erin all but dove for the phone on the end table and swiped the empty pina colada glass in her haste, sending it crashing to the hardwood floor. It shattered on impact and she cursed under her breath. She could deal with that later.

She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

A pause, a click, and then a robotic voice started in her ear. She only listened to two seconds before hanging up and throwing the phone onto the couch beside her with more force than was probably necessary. She slumped back into the cushions and covered her face with her hands.

She heard a soft creak as footsteps crossed the room, and moved her fingers enough to peek through and see Holtzmann standing awkwardly on the other side of the coffee table.

“Is everything okay?”

Erin swallowed hard and pushed herself up off the couch to go grab the broom and dustpan from the closet. She didn’t speak until she had returned and started sweeping up the broken glass.

“The hole isn’t from a sex accident.” She could feel Holtzmann’s eyes on her. “Phil and I got into a fight. He got angry and threw a stone egg at the wall. That was last night and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“A stone…egg?”

Erin sighed impatiently. “Yes. That’s the part of that confession that you’re hung up on?”

“No, it’s just…I’ve never heard of a stone egg before.”

“It was a decoration.”

“Alrighty then. Erin, right?”

Erin nodded.

Holtzmann came up and rested a hand on her arm. “Erin, did he try to throw the stone egg _at_ you?”

“No, no,” Erin said quickly. “He would never try to hurt me. He just has a bit of a temper, I guess. I’ve never seen him act like that, though.”

“Okay…” Holtzmann said, sounding a little unsure. “And you haven’t heard from him?”

Erin shook her head. “I know he’s just taking some time to cool off, which is probably good, but I can’t help but worry a little. You know?”

“I know. What would take your mind off it? Why don’t you put on another movie? Would that help?”

Erin considered that, then nodded.

“Great. Why don’t you let me clean the rest of this broken glass up, and you find a movie to watch?” Holtzmann reached her hand out for the broom.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s okay, really.” Holtzmann smiled gently.

Five minutes later, the glass was cleaned up and Holtzmann was back working on the wall while Erin flicked through the guide in search of something to watch. She came across an X-Files rerun that was just starting and happily changed to that channel.

Holtzmann looked over eagerly. “The X-Files? Nice! Oh man, you have the greatest taste in entertainment.”

Erin laughed quietly. “Thank you, and I proudly take that title.”

Watching the episode, she was almost able to forget about her MIA fiancé, especially with Holtzmann’s running commentary in the background. The episode was about halfway over when she came to stand by the couch.

“I’m done.”

“Really? Oh, that didn’t take long at all. Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure.”

Erin went to stand from the couch. “How much do I owe you, then? I’m sure you want to get on your way and—”

“Shh, shh, Scully is just about to drop some major sass.” Holtzmann held up a finger.

Erin slowly sunk back down to the couch. Sure enough, a few moments later the sass in question was unleashed. “Do you have every episode memorized?” Erin wondered aloud.

“Nearly. You mind if I watch for a bit longer? This is one of my favourites.”

Erin hesitated for only a moment, then gestured her assent. Holtzmann took a careful perch on the armrest of the couch.

The next thing Erin new, she was being startled awake by a loud noise. Disoriented, she swung her gaze around. When had she fallen asleep? A glance at the screen showed that it had been a gunshot that woke her.

Holtzmann was on the couch beside her, watching the show intently. Erin wasn’t exactly sure when she had drifted down from the armrest. She had memories of the episode ending, and then another episode beginning. It was a marathon.

She rearranged herself so she was sitting more upright and rubbed her eyes. Holtzmann glanced at her. “Did you fall asleep?”

“I must’ve. What time is it?”

Holtzmann checked her oversized watch and seemed to do a double take. “Shit. Is it really 11:00?”

“It’s that late?” Erin jumped up from the couch. “How did that happen? I have to work tomorrow!”

“I’m so sorry.” Holtzmann stood as well and ran her hand through her hair. “I had no idea. I’ll go now.”

She rushed over to her tool box and packed it up. Erin went to retrieve her chequebook and met Holtzmann in the foyer.

“How much do I owe you?”

Holtzmann considered her for a moment. “No charge. It’s on the house.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. Please, let me pay you for your work.”

“Hey, you let me stick around and watch The X-Files. That’s payment enough, in my opinion.” She smiled a lopsided grin.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you have a card?” Erin asked hurriedly. “So I can reach you the next time I need a job done? It seems only fair.”

Holtzmann’s grin spread. “I’ll do you one better. Can I borrow that pen?”

Erin handed her the pen. Holtzmann uncapped it with her teeth and reached out to grab Erin’s hand. Before Erin could protest, the pen was scratching along the back of her hand. Erin tried really hard to ignore the way her skin tingled after Holtzmann had released her, and examined the writing.

_Holtz the Handymann_

Below that, a phone number.

Holtzmann handed her back the pen. “Until next time, Erin. Good luck with the fiancé.” Then she saluted a two-fingered goodbye and left just as abruptly as she’d arrived.

Later that night in bed, Erin was kept awake by thoughts not of Phil, but a certain blonde handyman—until eventually she fell asleep alone for the second night in a row.

***

“Abby! You sent a complete stranger to my house without my permission!”

“It’s not like she’s an axe murderer. Chill out. Did she get the job done or not?”

“Yes, but—”

“And did she do a good job or not?”

“She did, but—”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that she was there until 11:00 at night because you sent her to my house without warning. I would’ve never had her come that late.”

Abby frowned. “She was there until 11:00?”

Erin coughed. “She may have stayed a bit later after the wall was fixed.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “Doing _what?_ ”

“Watching The X-Files.”

“You watched The X-Files with her? With a complete stranger? In your house? Until 11:00 at night?”

“Why are you saying that like it’s concerning? You just said she was completely safe!”

“I did _not_ say completely safe. I said she wasn’t an axe murderer.”

“ _Abby._ ”

“Relax. Are you going to see her again?”

“What do you mean ‘am I going to see her again’? It wasn’t a date, for crying out loud, it was a professional fixing a problem in my house.”

“And watching The X-Files.”

“Abby, what are you implying? I’m _engaged_.”

“Uh huh,” Abby said, sounding completely unimpressed by the word.

“What’s that tone of voice? You’re the one who loves reminding me that I’m engaged. Remember when you kept getting mad at me for hitting on Kevin?”

“That’s because he’s _gay_ , not because I like or respect Phil. You know I’ve never been a fan of him.”

“What? You don’t like Phil? Since when? And—wait, did you just say that Kevin is gay?”

Abby gave her a look. “Erin, he’s a drama teacher.”

Erin crossed her arms. “Lots of straight men like theatre.”

“He has a boyfriend. Who he talks about all the time.”

“Who, Todd? No, no, Todd’s just his roommate!”

Abby tilted her head to stare pointedly over her glasses.

“Oh, God.” Erin pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, God, Kevin’s gay. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You’re _engaged_ , it shouldn’t matter.”

“You _just_ said that you don’t like Phil, though! Why don’t you like Phil?”

Abby winced. “He’s not good for you, Er. He doesn’t respect you, he talks down to you, and you’re not yourself around him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that _before_ I got engaged to him?”

“I wanted to!” Abby threw her hands up. “I think you could do better, but I’ll stop trying. It’s your life and your decision.”

“Good.” Erin paused, and something occurred to her. “Wait, stop trying? Trying what?”

Abby at least had the grace to look sheepish.

“Abby, have you been trying to set me up with people?”

“No! No. Just…introducing you to people who you might get along with, that’s all.”

Something else struck Erin. “Hold on. You asked if I was going to see Holtzmann again. Did you— _Abby!_ ”

“She’s really great, okay? I think you guys would get along really well. Did you hit it off or no?”

“She’s…nice…but _Abby_ , I’m engaged. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation! I’m going to marry Phil. No more trying to set me up with people. _Okay?_ ”

“I won’t. I promise. I just want you to be happy, Erin.”

“I _am_ happy,” Erin said, but even as she said it she felt a twinge go through her. “I’m happy,” she repeated, quieter.

 


	2. The Garage Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect such a great response to this fic! Thank you all for your lovely comments. Heads up: the first chapter was a lot of set-up, so the rest of the chapters are going to be much shorter in comparison. :)

Holtzmann wasn’t in the habit of thinking about clients after she’d done a job, but for the whole week after meeting Erin Gilbert, the teacher didn’t leave her mind once. She had this horrible feeling that something bad was going to happen with that fiancé of hers. She found herself lying awake at night, wondering if he had come back or if he was still missing. She wondered if he had gotten angry and broken things before. She wondered if Erin had lied about him never hurting her.

It was probably irrational, and inappropriate, to fixate like this, but Holtz had never been great about boundaries.

She wished that she had a way to contact Erin, just to check in, but she didn’t have a phone number. All she had was Erin’s address, and short of showing up at her doorstep, there was nothing she could do. She even contemplated contacting Abby, but that seemed like something a deranged stalker would do.

So, she did nothing, and continued taking on jobs, and tried to push the thoughts from her mind. Everything was probably fine.

It was about two weeks later when her phone rang. She wiped her plaster-covered hands on her pants and plucked her cell from her pocket.

“Holtz the Handymann, what’s your favourite colour?”

There was a pause.

“Is that an Elf reference?”

“Bless you for knowing that. How can I help you?”

The voice on the other end coughed. “This is Erin Gilbert. You fixed my wall a few weeks back?”

Holtz straightened up and transferred her phone to her other ear so she could hear better. “Hi! Yes! How’s it holding up?”

“Good, good. I was actually phoning because I have another job, if you’re interested? We’re having a problem with our garage door.”

“Sounds like a job for the Holtzinator. How ‘bout we schedule a time for me to come this time, so there’s no surprises?”

“Any day at 4:00 would work for me.”

“Tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect! Thank you very much.”

“See ya then, Erin,” Holtz said with a smile that Erin would never see.

***

Holtz slammed the door to her truck and gazed up at the house in front of her. She’d forgotten how nice it was. Large, perfectly manicured yard, double garage, gorgeous stonework…and the inside was just as nice. She strolled up the path to the front door, climbed the steps, and knocked four times in quick succession.

The door opened almost instantly, like Erin had been waiting on the other side.

“Hi! Come on in!”

Holtz shoved her hands into her pockets as she stepped into the house and Erin shut the door behind her. “So, what seems to be the problem?”

“I’ll show you,” Erin said as she gestured for Holtz to follow her. “I think the motor is jammed on one of the garage door openers. When we click the button, it just makes this awful squealing and grinding noise. I haven’t been able to get my car out. I’ve had to catch a lift from Phil in the mornings and carpool with colleagues coming home, but that isn’t sustainable.”

They had reached the garage. Erin switched the light on and Holtz stepped inside, then looked up at the mechanism on the ceiling. “Do you have the remote handy?”

Erin pulled it from her pocket and passed it over. Holtz pushed down on the button and listened to the noise in question. The door didn’t move.

“That is one stuck door.” Holtz scratched her chin. “Do you have the remote to the other door so I can bring in my tools and a ladder?”

***

Shortly after, Holtz was at work on the stuck garage door opener. Erin was right, it was jammed. Holtz spotted the problem area quickly, and knew it would take her no time at all to fix. The car in the middle of the garage made it a little difficult to get to, but with some careful reaching she’d be fine. She got to work while Erin hovered at the back of the garage.

“So,” she began casually as she worked, “the fiancé returned, then?” She glanced up in time to see Erin duck her head and go pink.

“The next day, yeah. Turns out I was worrying for nothing.” Erin let out a little half-hearted laugh.

“Oh,” Holtz said simply. She resumed unscrewing the box around the motor.

There was a hefty pause.

“He’s a good guy, really.” Erin sounded defensive all of a sudden. “Everybody gets angry some times.”

“Of course,” Holtz said carefully.

“I mean, haven’t you ever gotten so mad you wanted to break something?”

Holtz glanced at her, unsure what the correct answer was. “Uh…not really. I prefer to build things when I’m upset. A therapist once told me that it’s always healthier to create than to destroy.” Why had she said that? Erin was a virtual stranger.

Erin stared for a moment, then pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’m going to go inside and let you work. Just come on in when you’re done.” Then she turned and was gone.

Holtz sighed and got to work.

***

Holtz stood in the centre of the garage and watched the door open and close again like a dream. She wiped the grease from her hands on her overalls and let herself into the house. “Erin? I’m all finished.”

There was silence. She called again, then heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Erin appeared in the kitchen a few moments later. The first thing Holtz noticed was that her eyes were red, like she had been crying.

Holtz awkwardly shifted her weight. “I’m done. The door is as good as new. Tested it out a few times. The motor was jammed, like you said, but it’s fine now and you should have no problems with it.”

“Great, thank you,” Erin said, her voice stiff. “How much do I owe you?”

Holtz mentioned her usual rate and Erin nodded and bent over the kitchen counter to scrawl out a cheque. She handed it to Holtz. “Well, thank you for coming.”

“Give me a shout if you ever need anything, Erin.” Holtz folded the cheque and pocketed it. “I mean it.”

“Of course. I’ll call if I need any more help with things around the house.” She put an emphasis on the last three words.

Holtz nodded curtly. “See you around.”

As she drove home, she couldn’t shake the image of Erin, crying alone in that big house. In the following days, she put off depositing the cheque, half-hoping that Erin would call her to make sure everything was fine with it. After a week, she stopped running her thumb along the signature—ink slightly smeared, big swooping G in Gilbert, long cross on the t—and deposited the cheque, resigned to the fact that she’d likely never hear from Erin again after that disaster.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to the incredibly amazing [Jillian not Holtzmann](http://lil-peanutt.tumblr.com) for betaing. I met her 7 months ago right here on ao3 in the comments of my first fic, and tomorrow she's flying across the country to see me and I am EMOTIONAL. Please go follow her, guys. And comment on people's fics...you never know what that small act can lead to!


	3. The Drawer Handle

Erin was pissed. She was pissed that she had a massive stack of final exams to grade, she was pissed that her fiancé was prioritizing work over her, she was pissed that a complete stranger had the audacity to pass judgements about her choice of partner, she was even more pissed that her _best friend_ had the audacity to pass judgements about her choice of partner, and above all, she was really, truly pissed about the stupid handle on her dresser that had fallen off that morning.

She was running late when it happened. It had been loose for weeks, but she’d been ignoring it until the moment when she tugged too hard and it came right off, sending her flying onto her ass. For the first time in days, she was glad that Phil wasn’t around. She could just imagine his distasteful sneer if he’d witnessed that.

She went off to work pissed, and got through her day pissed, and came home pissed, and now she was sitting in front of her dresser with the handle in one hand and her address book in the other and debating the ethics of calling Holtzmann. Part of her wanted to stand her ground and make a point, and another part of her knew that she was overreacting (and it wasn’t like Holtzmann had _said_ anything bad about Phil, even if there was some implied judgement).

She contemplated for a few minutes, then picked up her phone and dialed.

“Hello,” came the voice on the other end, “I’ll take a large pepperoni and pineapple pizza with extra cheese.”

Erin blinked. “Uh, sorry? I think you have the wrong number?”

“You called me, Erin.”

“…Holtzmann?”

“That’s who you dialed, isn’t it?” She could hear the smile in Holtzmann’s voice.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, I’m not in the mood for this. I have a job for you to do, but if you’re going to be difficult then I’ll call someone else.”

Holtzmann was silent on the other side of the line. After a pause, she cleared her throat. “I can be there in 20.”

***

Erin paced back and forth in her bedroom and willed Holtzmann to move faster. The handyman was crouched in front of the dresser with the drawer in her lap, methodically screwing the handle into place. If Erin didn’t know better, she’d say Holtzmann was taking her time on purpose.

“You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders,” she said softly.

Erin froze. “Sorry?”

Holtzmann glanced back at Erin. “You seem tense. Is it because of me, or…”

Erin pressed her lips together. “Of course it’s not because of you.”

Holtzmann held her gaze for a second longer, then turned back to the drawer. She was silent except for the squeak of the screwdriver. After a few moments, she slotted the screwdriver into her toolbelt and slid the drawer back into place, then stood. “Good as new,” she said, her voice hard.

Erin fiddled with her fingers. “That’s that, then.”

“Yep.”

“My chequebook is downstairs. We can—”

Holtzmann held a hand up. “Forget it. That was a two minute job. I’m not taking your money.”

“Exactly,” Erin replied, growing exasperated. “I made you drive all the way over here for a stupid job. Of course I’m going to pay you.”

“Erin. Don’t worry about it. You clearly have a lot going on. It’s on the house.”

“ _No_.”

“I’m leaving, okay?” Holtzmann backed towards the door of the bedroom. “I’ll see myself out. Take care, Erin.”

She slipped out before Erin could say anything else. She stood there for a few moments, listening to the soft thump of footsteps going down the stairs, and then darted forwards.

“Holtzmann!” she shouted from the top of the stairs.

The woman paused at the bottom and crossed her arms. “What?”

Erin stumbled down the stairs to meet Holtzmann. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch.”

Holtzmann hitched her toolbelt higher around her waist and lifted an eyebrow.

“I’m going through a rough patch and I’m taking it out on you.” Erin sighed. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you that, because you’re still a virtual stranger, but I feel like I need to explain myself.”

Holtzmann ran a hand through her poof of hair. “I get it, Erin. Don’t worry about me. I’ve had my fair share of mistreatment over the years. Everybody has bad days.”

“But I’m…not usually like this. Or maybe I am, I don’t know. I’m just sorry. There’s no excuse for being rude.”

Holtzmann winced. “I dunno, it’s probably not entirely unwarranted. I think I overstepped the last time I was here. I didn’t mean to…I was just a little worried about you after our first meeting.”

“Worried?” Erin crinkled her nose. “Why?”

“The fight you had with your fiancé. It’s always worrying to me to hear about someone becoming violent when they’re angry, because—” Holtzmann coughed. “Never mind. I should leave.”

Erin caught her arm as she turned to leave. “No, what were you going to say?”

Holtzmann shuffled her weight and squinted. “It’s just…my dad was like that, so I guess I’m a bit more sensitive to that sort of thing than most people.”

Erin didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m sorry…about your dad. But Phil’s not like that, and I consider myself an intelligent woman who—”

“You are, of course you are. So was my mom. It’s just…hard sometimes to see it when you’re that close to someone. Love can cloud a lot, you know? I don’t want to imply anything about your fiancé, because obviously I’ve never met him, but I couldn’t help but…sorry. You can tell me to fuck right off, if you want.”

Erin studied her for a moment, and then, finally: “Do you want to stay for a cup of coffee?”

***

Erin wasn’t exactly sure what had shifted between her and Holtzmann, just that something had. She couldn’t even pinpoint when it happened—sometime between their conversation at the foot of the stairs and their second round of coffee.

“Tell me more about your mom.” Erin took a sip from her periwinkle mug and gazed across the kitchen table at Holtzmann, who was tapping out a rhythm with her spoon on the rim of her own mug.

“She was a painter. Died of a brain aneurism when I was 14, and I was pretty crushed. Left my dad alone to raise me and my siblings, and me and him didn’t see eye-to-eye on a whole lot. It was the gay thing that eventually shattered what little relationship we had, and after that I packed up and embarked on the road trip that led me here.”

“You’re gay?”

Holtzmann made a face. “You’re surprised?”

“I didn’t want to assume based on…your profession.”

Holtzmann smirked. “And the flirting didn’t give me away?”

“Were you flirting with me?” Erin let a smile twitch. “I didn’t notice.”

Holtzmann pointed the spoon at her. “Did that faux-ignorance shtick work on your fiancé?”

“As a matter of fact, it did.”

“Intereeesting.”

Erin blushed. “So, how many siblings do you have?”

“Three, now. Two brothers and a sister, all older. My baby brother died a few years back. Work accident.”

“Big family.”

Holtzmann hummed. “What about you? What’s the Gilbert family like? You said your parents got divorced?”

“Not much interesting to report there. It was a fairly standard situation. They didn’t love each other any more. Fought constantly, but kept it a secret from my brother and I. They didn’t tell us they were having problems until the divorce was already underway, and I was well into my adult life by that point. Like I said, I got the house out of the whole fiasco, so I can’t be too angry about it.”

“Younger or older brother?”

“Older. Ten years older, actually. They were only supposed to have one…I was the accident.”

Holtzmann pouted her lower lip. “Ouch. So it was just the four of you in this big house growing up?”

“It was a symbol of wealth, not a practical home. My father was a very successful businessman, and he wanted to show that off.”

“You sound bitter. Why do you still live here? Why not sell it and move someplace smaller?”

Erin shrugged. “It would feel dishonest to do that when it was a gift. When they’ve both passed away, maybe. It’s not like there’s a whole lot of sentimental value in keeping it. It’s just a house. At this point, the cost of maintaining it is becoming irritating.”

“Hey, I take offence to that,” Holtzmann joked.

Erin laughed.

Holtzmann glanced at her watch. “Is that really the time? I gotta get going. I have another job today.”

Erin consulted the digital clock on the stove. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry for keeping you for so long.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. This was…nice.”

Erin thumbed a drop of spilt coffee from the surface of the table. “I’m sorry again for being so crabby earlier. Like I said, there’s no excuse.”

Holtzmann cracked a smile. “And like I said, it’s all good.”

They stood simultaneously with a scraping-back of chairs and Erin led Holtzmann to the foyer.

“Are you sure you won’t take money, Holtzmann?”

Holtzmann shook her head. “Erin, please. A few cups of coffee and a pleasant chat with you are well worth the drive over. By the way…you can call me Holtz if you want.”

“Holtz,” Erin repeated. “Do you not have a first name?”

“I lost it,” Holtz deadpanned.

Erin laughed.

“Anyway, I really should be going,” Holtzmann said as she opened the door. “Thanks again for the coffee.” She stepped outside and jogged down the steps, then paused and turned. “Oh, and Erin? If you want to get some of that tension worked out, I know a guy.” She tapped her own shoulder. Then she smiled goofily and waved. “See ya!”

Erin stood in the doorframe and watched her climb into her truck and drive away, and it wasn’t until her feet started to get cold that she realized she’d been standing there for too long, and disappeared back into the house.

 


	4. The Chipped Tile

Holtz expected it to be a little while before she heard from Erin again, especially after how dangerously close to flirting they got after the last time they were together, yet it was only a few days later that she got the call. Soon, she was driving the familiar route to the house.

Erin greeted her at the door. “Holtzmann, come in!”

Erin ushered her into the kitchen, where she dropped into a crouch in front of the dishwasher and pointed at the tiled floor. Holtz joined her there.

“See the chip?”

“Yes, but what I don’t see is the salsa.”

Erin pushed her, and if it weren’t for Holtz’s supreme core strength, she would’ve fallen right over.

“Can you fix it?”

Holtz puffed her chest out. “I can fix anything. I have something to fill that right in. Easy peasy lemon sleazy.”

“I don’t think that’s the phrase.”

Holtz stood up and hiked her tool belt. “I’ll run to my truck and be back before you can say ‘ghost.’”

“Why would I say ‘ghost’?”

Holtz hummed the Ghostbusters theme again, then ducked out.

***

“So, when did this happen?” Holtz asked as she filled in the chipped tile.

“Uhh…just yesterday.” She was clearly lying. Holtz didn’t know what to make of that, so she chose to ignore it instead. She had a feeling the chip had something to do with the fiancé, but she’d learnt from her mistakes. She wasn’t about to bring that up again.

She finished filling in the tile and stood. “There you have it. That’ll need to set, so avoid the area for a bit.”

“Thank you,” Erin said, then: “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

Holtzmann considered that. She’d had fun the last time, but with every minute she spent with Erin, she was starting to develop a bit of an interest in her. And, obviously, that was off-limits. Erin was engaged. From her end, she probably thought she was building a new friendship, but from Holtz’s perspective…they were heading down a dangerous path. A path full of coffee dates and flirtatious banter and God knows what else.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve got another job to get to. Another time?” Why had she added that? She wasn’t supposed to be encouraging this.

Disappointment fell over Erin’s face. “Oh, okay.”

She wrote out a cheque, and that was that. It was only as Holtz was driving away that she wondered if she’d made the right decision. What could coffee hurt, really?

Next time, she’d say yes if Erin offered.

For friendship, obviously.

That was all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know this is so short it barely constitutes as a chapter, BUT I have the next two already written so they'll be posted relatively soon! In the meantime, go check out [the brand new fic I just posted literally a few minutes ago](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10202744).


	5. The Gutters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you there'd be more soon! Now, in the immortal words of JNH, "buckle down kids, shit's getting real"

Erin didn’t know what she was doing. Well, she knew, but she didn’t want to. She tried to pretend that she didn’t know the reason why she called Holtzmann over to fix a chip that had been there for two years. Why she was currently stalking around the house, searching for something else—anything else—in need of repair.

She wanted to see Holtz again, that much was clear. Needed to see her again, more like.

It was wrong. She kept telling herself that. She couldn’t deny her growing attraction to the handyman, and that in itself wouldn’t be so horrible…but she was engaged. Of course, she’d always had a bit of a problem with flirting with attractive people while engaged—Kevin was the obvious example—but she’d never gone so far as to invite someone to her house. Never asked someone to have coffee with her.

The fact that she only saw Phil once in a blue moon wasn’t helping matters. Maybe if he was around, this wouldn’t be so tempting.

Or maybe, the little voice in the back of her head told her, regardless of his presence or lack thereof, the fact that she was so easily swayed by other temptations was indicative of something.

She was scared, though. She’d gone a long time thinking she’d never find someone who’d want to settle down with her, and she wasn’t about to throw that away just for a chance to be with someone new. What if things didn’t work out, and she was right back where she started, alone as ever?

***

“Cleaning gutters isn’t my favourite, but sure, I can do that,” Holtzmann said, staring up the side of the house.

“I can keep you company while you work,” Erin said.

Holtz shot her a look, and there was a hint of pain in her eyes. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to,” Erin replied quickly.

There was a long pause.

“I’ll go get my ladder.”

***

Erin kept up a steady conversation from her place on the lawn while Holtz worked her way around the perimeter of the house. She was learning more about Holtz, from her interests and hobbies (so all over the place that it made Erin’s head hurt) to her favourite colour (eggplant).

“So, you’re gay,” she said finally.

Holtz stiffened, her back to Erin and her arm buried in the gutter. “Back to that, are we?”

Erin shrugged, then realized Holtzmann wouldn’t be able to see it. “It’s not like we talked about it much.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Erin said. Then, casually, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Holtz chuckled. “Getting personal, now.”

“Is that more personal than telling me about your relationship with your father?”

“Touché.” She paused. “Guess not.”

“So?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just making conversation.”

“Riiight. Well, in _that_ case, no, I don’t have a girlfriend. Discuss.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know you well, but you seem like quite the charmer. Would’ve taken you for a real ladies gal.”

Holtz glanced over her shoulder. “Who said I’m not?”

Erin let that sink in. “Ah. Can’t be tied down?” Why did she feel so disappointed?

Holtz shrugged one shoulder. “Never found durable-enough string. Got any pointers?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, you managed to snag someone for good. What did he have to do to land you?”

“Why, you looking for advice?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Holtz retorted, giving the gutter beside her a hollow smack.

“How long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Since I got here,” Holtz admitted. “Seriously, though, how does one go about landing a girl in this town? Am I doomed for failure because of my gender? Has it finally slowed me down?” She pretended to weep.

“For starters, you could tone down the drama. And no, there are plenty of queer women around, as I’m sure you’ve found out. You just need to look for us.”

Holtzmann peered down at her. “‘Us?’ Interesting.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Surprised you told me, maybe. But Erin, darling, you’ve been flirting back since the minute I met you. You could work on your subtlety.”

“So could you,” Erin shot back. Her heart started to speed up. They were heading into dangerous territory.

Holtz climbed spryly down from the top rung of her ladder and jumped to the grass with a muted thud. She faced Erin and crossed her arms. “Hey, I’m not the one with a lot to lose. You’re the engaged one, not me. And you should know that I don’t play that game. Not about to play the lesbian mistress who lets you escape from your passionless marriage, or whatever that godawful trope is. I swear, one of these days I’d like to turn on Netflix and find a gay movie that doesn’t have an affair, secrecy, and drama. No thanks.”

That stung, even though she was right. “Calm down. It’s not like I’ve made a move on you. It’s not like I’ve asked you out.”

Holtz gestured around. “Haven’t you?”

“You provide a service, and I am paying you for that service.”

“Kinky,” Holtz said dryly.

“Holtzmann, be serious. Are you honestly suggesting that I’m coming onto you?”

“No, I’m not suggesting that. What I _am_ doing is inviting you to take a close look at what you _are_ doing, and I’m warning you that if your intentions change, I’m outta here.”

“I’m not looking to have an affair, Holtzmann. Not now, and not any time soon. I’m not that kind of person. If you’ve mistaken this for something it’s not, that’s your problem, not mine. You’re welcome to refuse a job anytime you like.”

She was being unfair. She knew that. She couldn’t stop the words from coming out, though. Who was she trying to convince?

“Noted. Now that we’re both on the same page, can we move past this bullshit and be cool again?”

Erin exhaled. “Yeah, we can.”

“Good. Now shush and let me get back to work. This gutter isn’t gonna clean itself.”

She swung back onto the ladder and got back to work. Erin’s heart was still pounding. The conversation didn’t feel finished, but it seemed like Holtz had moved on. She was already scooping out gunk as if they hadn’t just been talking about affairs a minute prior, like she did this every day.

What was Erin supposed to make of _that?_

 


	6. The Sliding Door

It was a little weird, having it all out there in the open, but good, Holtzmann thought. Instead of bending her morals and allowing things to progress any further, she’d put her foot down and set boundaries. That was good, right?

Although, hearing out loud that Erin was into women did make it a little harder. It shouldn’t have mattered—she was still engaged, although with each visit to Erin’s house, Holtz became a little less convinced of the fiancé’s existence. He was like some mythical being…like non-drama queer movies. Out there somewhere, but never visible.

At least she felt better about going to help Erin out, now. She knew where Erin’s head was at, and she didn’t have to worry anymore.

She got a call one morning from Erin.

“Holtz the Handymann, you break it, I shake it.”

“What’s with you and the slogans that don’t make sense?”

“Keep up, won’t you? I thought you were an intellectual. What’s up?”

“Our sliding door came off its track last night, and I tried everything but I can’t get it back in. Could you come by tonight and take a look?”

“Sure thing. 5:00?”

“See you then.”

***

Holtz lifted her fist and rapped on the door in the tune of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen.’ She was cut off mid-chorus by the door swinging open, and she staggered back when she saw what was on the other side.

It was a man, and it had to be the fiancé.

Generic-looking white guy, nothing special. Brown hair. A maroon sweater rested over a white button-up and boring tie.

He looked her up and down with obvious judgement. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

“Yeeeah.” Holtz tried to crane around him, but Erin was nowhere to be found.

He tapped his foot, literally tapped his foot, impatiently on the ground. “We don’t believe in charity. If you’ll step away from the door right now, I won’t call the police. Now go back to wherever you came from.”

“Wait, buddy, do you think I’m _homeless?_   Jesus. I’m the handyman who’s been fixing all the shit around your house. Your fiancée called me here for a job tonight, and I intend to do it.” She frowned. “Or something that doesn’t make me sound like a hitman.”

“What do you mean, handyman? _Erin!_ ”

His eyes didn’t leave her as footsteps echoed down the stairs behind him. A few moments later, Erin appeared at his side, looking flushed and out-of-breath. “Holtzmann!”

“You know this…woman?” He sneered at Holtz as he said it.

“She’s the handyman I told you about.”

“Darling,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “I would remember if you’d told me about this.”

“Well,” Erin replied, sounding increasingly irritated, “I did tell you. Multiple times. She’s the one who fixed the hole and the garage door opener, and I called her here tonight to fix the sliding door.”

“I don’t need some _woman—”_ Again, laced with arrogance— “to fix something like that. I told you I’d take care of it.”

“When, Phil? When? You haven’t been home before 9:00 in weeks! Was I just supposed to wait around with a broken door until you decided to show up? I’m here alone _all the time_. I don’t feel safe with a door that doesn’t close!”

Holtz held her hands up. “Listen, you clearly have some shit to talk about, so I’m gonna go.”

“Holtzmann, stop. I called you here to fix that door, and you’re going to.”

“I really think I should—”

“Come in,” Erin said curtly.

Holtz sighed. The fiancé seemed like he was prepared to block the door, but Erin pulled him out of the way so Holtz could get past, then took Holtz by the arm and led her to the living room. She stopped in front of the sliding door and gestured to it.

“Here we go. I’ll let you take a look.”

Then she disappeared, and Holtz was left alone with the busted door. She heard the front door slam, then the beginnings of whisper-yelling that she couldn’t quite make out. She tried to busy herself with her work, examining the track where the door had derailed, but she couldn’t help but listen in.

What would happen with her and Erin if her engagement fell through? She hadn’t considered that. As bad as the relationship seemed from the outside, Erin appeared to be pretty committed to it. Seeing them in action, though—well, maybe she’d have a shot after all.

She shook the thought from her brain and got back to work.

She heard loud footsteps stomp up the stairs, and then a second, lighter set follow. When they reached upstairs, the argument turned into full-blown yelling, which was muffled enough that Holtz couldn’t make out exact words. Shit.

She managed to pry the door from its position and get in set back into place in no time at all, perhaps fueled by her need to escape the awkward environment, and soon she was left standing in front of the closed and locked sliding door with no idea how to proceed.

The screaming overhead didn’t sound like it would let up any time soon with the way they were going at it. The best thing to do was probably make a hasty yet stealth exit, and follow up for payment later. Or, screw payment.

She gathered her stuff and crept towards the door, careful to tread lightly so her heavy boots didn’t tip them off. She pulled open the front door, paused, then slipped out. She shut it gently behind her, then made her way down to the truck.

Once inside, she cursed the older model, which definitely wasn’t designed for a sneaky start-up. The engine roared to life, and she was just putting it into drive when the front door of the big house opened and Erin ran out. Holtz rolled down the window as Erin approached, her face blotchy from shouting.

“Did you finish already?” she asked, panting slightly.

Holtz nodded.

“Were you going to leave without a cheque? Shoot, I don’t have my chequebook on me.”

Holtz glanced past her at the house. “Uh, I can get it another time. Listen, Erin, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“Are you going to be okay going back in there, or do you need a place to crash tonight?”

“What are you talking about? It’s my house. If anything, he should be the one to leave.”

“But will he?”

Erin sighed. “He’ll cool down. I know you think he’s going to hurt me, but he’s not. This is just how couples are sometimes.”

“Riiight,” Holtz said. “Well, you have my number in case anything changes. If you feel unsafe, please call me.”

“Thanks for the concern, Holtz. But really, I’ll be fine.”

“Have a good night, Erin.”

“You too,” Erin replied, but she sounded distracted. Before Holtz could say another word, she had turned and was walking back towards the house with the gait of a prisoner before execution. Holtzmann watched her go, feeling a little helpless, before she moved her foot to the gas pedal and drove away.

 


	7. The Banister

The house felt strangely quiet after the near-constant shouting of the past few days. She felt empowered, almost, finally having the courage to stand up to Phil. Maybe it was the time she’d been spending with Holtzmann that had given her a bit more confidence than usual.

Her fight with Phil had been about anything and everything, all that had been building up for months. He was angry that she never told him anything. She was angry that he was never around. It felt cathartic to get it out in the open, and if she was being honest, it was the most they’d spoken in a while. Communication was good, right? It was progress.

Or at least, she thought it was, but after the dust settled, nothing seemed to change. Here she was, a few days after the bulk of the fight, and once again Phil was working late. He was always working late. The day Holtz had come over to fix the sliding door, Erin hadn’t expected Phil to be home until at least 9:00pm. Not that she’d scheduled the appointment with that in mind…she’d just gotten accustomed to him being gone when Holtz was over. He’d just gotten home ten minutes before Holtz had shown up, saying his meeting was cancelled, so she didn’t have any time to phone Holtz and cancel. Not that she had any reason to cancel. She didn’t know Phil was going to blow up like that, and he had no right. If he wasn’t going to be around, she had every right to hire whomever she pleased.

Well, probably not a prostitute, but the point stood.

The banister at the bottom of the staircase had been wiggly for months, and every time Erin came downstairs she felt it loosen (and loosen her patience along with it). She was one step away from pulling a George Bailey the next time it happened, so she decided to get it fixed once and for all.

Seeing Holtz again couldn’t hurt either. They hadn’t had a real chance to talk ever since their conversation outside with the gutters, and she was sure that the whole thing with Phil had probably only increased the tension between them.

“Yo, earth to Erin. You in there?”

Erin snapped out of her train of thought to see Patty waving at her from across the staff room table.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“Well, think on your way back to class. Lunch is over.”

“Crap, it is?” Erin stared down at her uneaten sandwich.

“You didn’t hear the bell?” Abby said from across the room as she poured coffee into a to-go mug. “You’re not daydreaming about Kevin again, are you?”

Erin snorted. “God, no. I’ve moved on from _that._ ”

“To someone _else?_ Lord, please tell me it’s your fiancé for once.”

Erin blushed as she packed up her lunch kit. “Of course.”

“Dreaming about your wedding?” Patty teased.

The three of them exited the staff room and pushed their way through the crowds of teenagers on their way to class.

“Yeah, that’s…right.”

Patty departed in the direction of her classroom and Erin and Abby continued on.

“How is lover-boy?”

Erin glanced at her, remembering that for all intents and purposes, Abby was the best friend she had. “I haven’t seen a lot of him. He’s been working late at the office for months, ever since the promotion. Lots of late meetings and stuff.”

Abby pulled a face. “He needs to make time for you.”

“It’s his job, Abby, it’s not like he can say no.”

“He’s the boss now, right?”

“Head of his department,” Erin corrected sullenly.

“So he has some sway. Bet he doesn’t have to schedule meetings so late.”

This was starting to remind her of her fight with Phil. She’d told him that, too, but he’d insisted that he had no control over them. “I guess,” she replied to Abby’s remark.

They’d reached Abby’s turnoff for the gymnasium.

“Hey, you’re coming to the staff social on Friday, right? Don’t make me haul you there over my shoulder. I’ll do it.”

“I can’t, it’s my five-year anniversary with Phil.”

“Boooo. Next time!” Abby shouted back as she disappeared down the hallway.

Erin reached her own classroom and slipped inside. She set her lunch kit down on her desk and sat down with a sigh.

New semester, new students who didn’t give a crap about learning to graph an asymptote. Really, she couldn’t blame them.

***

“You sure it’s wise for me to come over?”

Erin shifted the phone to her other ear. “Please, Holtz? This knob is driving me crazy.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Holtz, seriously. Phil won’t be home.”

“Why should that change my mind?”

“Because you don’t have to witness another uncomfortable fight. Come on, will you do it, or should I find someone else?”

A pause, and then a drawn-out sigh. “Be there in twenty.”

***

Erin could tell when she opened the door that Holtzmann was on edge. It was the way she shifted back when the door swung open, like she was ready to bolt if Phil was on the other side again.

She was all business as she stepped past Erin and moved to the bottom of the stairs to jostle the banister.

“Listen, Holtz,” Erin began.

Holtz held up a hand without looking at Erin. “Let’s just not talk about it, okay? What goes on in your life isn’t my business.”

“Right,” Erin said stiffly. So, there was even more tension between them than she’d anticipated. “In that case, I’m going to go watch TV in the living room. Give me a shout when you’re done. No running off without your cheque this time. Still gotta pay you for…last time.”

Holtzmann grunted in response.

Erin sighed and retreated to the living room. She sunk into the couch and flicked through channels until she happened to stumble across an X-Files rerun. She pulled her knees to her chest in a move that made her feel strangely childlike, thoughts of her first encounter with Holtzmann filling her head. She tried to lose herself in the show, but her mind kept wandering back.

“Is this the one with the treeple?”

Erin jumped and spun her head so fast it was a wonder her neck didn’t snap. Holtzmann was leaning nonchalantly in the archway separating the entrance from the living room.

“The what?” she replied meekly.

“Tree people. Treeple. They probably have an actual name, but that’s what I like to call them. It’s the episode where they get stuck in the woods, right? Scully sings to Mulder after he gets injured.”

Erin glanced back at the TV and remembered what she was watching. “Oh, yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

“They’re not tree people, though. That implies they either live in or are made of trees. They just camouflage to their surroundings.”

“Ehhhh, don’t question the treeple. I know what I’m talking about.”

“You sure about that?” Erin teased. She’d missed this, the banter, and she could feel herself getting sucked into it again. Why was this so easy?

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Prove it,” Erin said boldly, and patted the couch beside her.

In a flash, the easy-going smirk on Holtzmann’s face disappeared and was replaced by a pained expression. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Why?” Erin challenged. “I thought we talked about this? Why don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not—” Holtz broke off as quickly as she’d started and shook her head. “Never mind. Your banister is fixed. I should go now.”

Erin rose from the couch. “No, what were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Erin.”

“Holtzmann.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust,” Holtz said. “Okay?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Erin, you know what it means.”

“No, really, what does that mean? You mean you don’t trust yourself? Was your whole lesbian mistress thing all a bunch of BS?”

“No,” Holtz replied firmly. “I am _not_ that dick who gets involved with a married, or soon-to-be married, woman. Never. And I hate, I _hate_ , that you make me want to abandon those morals.”

“I didn’t—”

“Not on _purpose_ , Erin, Jesus. You’re just too—” She gestured in a jumbled way— “fucking enticing. God, now who sounds like a fucking lesbian drama.” She sighed deeply and pressed her fingers to her temple. “I don’t want to get involved with you, Erin, and be the one who you cheat on your husband with, and I _know_ you don’t want to either. But I can’t stop imagining all these fucking scenarios where you realize that he’s a dick and break things off and I know that’s bad, _so_ bad to even be thinking about, because you’re happy with him and I barely even _know_ you, but when you’re calling me over to your house every other day and sitting there in that cute little sweater and bantering with me about the goddamn X-Files, there’s just something _about_ you that keeps drawing me in and I just—” She stopped abruptly, having finally seemed to realize everything that she’d just said.

The house felt quieter than ever with all that hanging in the air between them.

“What do you want from me?” Erin finally said, her voice shaky.

Holtz shook her head.

“You want me to break off a five year relationship for you?”

“I never said that.”

“You’ve been _fantasizing_ about it.” Even saying the words out loud felt surreal. “Why would you tell me that?”

“You asked.” The two words were steeped in bitterness.

“That doesn’t mean I wanted to know the answer.”

“Oh come on, Erin. Don’t pull that shit. You know you’re _just_ as responsible for all of this as I am. Don’t you dare pretend you aren’t.”

Erin sucked in a breath. “You’re right. And you know what, you were right before, too. You should go.”

Holtz’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I guess I should.”

Erin looked at the floor. “I shouldn’t call you any more.”

“No.” Holtz’s voice was just as shaky. “I don’t think you should.”

“I’m sorry, Holtz.” Erin hoped she could convey everything with those words. “If the circumstances were different—”

“Nope, don’t even—don’t even go there.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m leaving now,” Holtz said.

“Let me write you your cheques.” Erin walked to the kitchen and wrote them out, then met Holtz in the entranceway.

“I’m sorry,” Erin said again.

“Yeah, me too.”

“If…if anything changes…”

“I think it’s better if you don’t finish that sentence.”

“Okay,” Erin replied, so quiet Holtz may have not even heard it.

Holtz took the cheques. “Bye, Erin.”

“Bye, Holtz.”

With that, the handyman left. Erin wandered back to the living room in a bit of a haze and dropped to the couch.

On screen, Scully was singing.

Erin began to cry.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. I promise there's a happy ending ahead.
> 
> Want something to lighten the mood? I wrote this [ really experimental Holtzbert thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10329818) that I just posted, and you could go check that out. Or, if you missed it, I also posted a very comedic sequel to an old fic, so [ you could give that a read](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10302053) if you haven't already. :)


	8. The Burst Pipe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #fourth wall what's a fourth wall

Holtzmann felt like shit.

Her tendency to cut through bullshit and say what others wouldn’t was just as much a detriment as it was an asset. Why did she have to call out what they were doing, anyway? If she’d just stayed silent, like most people would, then they wouldn’t be here.

But where would they be, exactly? Still dancing around each other, each knowing how dangerous this was but doing it anyway?

No, this was better.

She still felt like shit, though.

***

She threw herself into work, taking on every job offered to her, letting herself get lost in mind-numbing menial tasks. A few days passed and her mind was just as fried, although now she was as physically exhausted as she was mentally.

She was childproofing a house for a client on Friday evening, just fitting her third toilet with a safety lock, when her cell rang. She fished it out and glanced at the screen, then froze.

Seriously? She’d only lasted three days?

She shouldn’t answer. They’d agreed, no more calls.

She accepted the call.

“What, Erin?”

“Holtzmann?” Erin sounded slightly hysterical, and like she was crying.

“What’s going on?”

“I n-need you to come immediately; it’s an emergency!”

“What’s going on?” Holtz repeated.

“A-a pipe burst. Please, please, I need you. I don’t know who else to call!” She sounded like her hysteria was mounting.

Holtz stared into the toilet in front of her. Was she going to regret this? She had a number of friends she could send over there.

“Hang on, I’ll be there soon.”

***

Holtz screeched to a stop in front of the house and unloaded her stuff faster than ever. She reached the front door, knocked a few times, and waited. There was no sound of movement inside. She tried the knob. Unlocked. Erin was probably busy trying to keep the house from flooding. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Instantly, something felt wrong. It was too quiet. No rushing water, not a drip. Maybe Erin had got it under control?

“Erin?” she called.

Nothing.

An unsettling feeling pricked at her skin. She set down her tools in the entranceway, suddenly feeling like she was at a crime scene.

Oh, fuck.

What if it had been a distress call for another reason? What if Erin was in trouble?

She choked down the sickening feeling rising in her, grabbed her heaviest wrench to use as a weapon if need be, and crept through the archway into the living room. Her eyes swept the room but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She moved into the kitchen.

There was a whimper.

She stepped around the island in the middle of the kitchen, and there was Erin, on the floor in front of the dishwasher with her knees curled to her chest, shaking and crying.

In a flash, Holtz dropped beside her, the wrench clattering to the tile. “Erin, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“There’s n-no burst pipe. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call. Oh God, I’m such an idiot, I’m an idiot. Abby warned me, and you warned me, and I’m an idiot.”

Holtz froze. “The fiancé.”

Erin, if possible, contracted further into herself and nodded.

Holtz’s hands clenched into fists. “Did he hurt you? Where is that motherfucker?”

“No, no, he didn’t, he—oh God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Stop saying that. What happened?”

“I-it’s our anniversary, and he said he had to work late, and I thought I’d go surprise him at work instead of moping around here, and—” She started crying harder.

Oh. Holtz could see where this was going.

“He’s cheating on me,” Erin wailed. “He’s been cheating on me for _months_. With his _secretary_. It was all there. How could I be such an idiot?”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I _am!_ What kind of awful alternate universe am I living in that my fucking fiancé is cheating on me with his secretary?”

Holtz had never heard Erin swear before.

“It’s so clichéd!” Erin continued. “But she’s not even young and hot! She’s older than me, and he would _still_ rather sleep with her than me! What’s _wrong_ with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s him. Everything’s wrong with him.”

“Her name is Phyllis. _Phyllis_. How conceited do you have to be? She’s like the female version of him!”

“I’m sorry, Erin.”

“And then here I am calling you afterwards, and I realize how that looks, and God, seriously, _what is wrong with me?_ ”

Holtz sighed and slid down to her ass so she was sitting across from Erin with her back against the island. “This stuff happens, Erin. Not just in movies and books.”

“But not to _me_. When did my life become like this?” She gestured between them. “I’m just a high school math teacher from a small town. I’m supposed to get married to a nice guy who works a boring 9-5 office job, and have a few babies to fill this big house, and grow old and retire and lead a perfectly normal, stable life.”

“Well, first of all, that sounds boring. Second of all, that woman you described? That’s not you. That sounds like some two-dimensional stock character. Drama like this? Makes for an interesting life.”

“What if I don’t want that? It’s like you said, I don’t want to live out a terrible, one-star drama, queer or not.”

“Erin, your life isn’t a movie, okay? It never will be. You want to know why? You’re a person, not a character, and you have agency. Besides, if we were in a movie, we’d be having some big scene right now where I say something cheesy like ‘I can fix your broken heart. I’m good at fixing things’ and you realize that you have nothing holding you back, and we have a passionate kiss right here on your kitchen floor while the camera pans out, all the way to a wide view of the house. Then it cuts to five years later, and we’re still in the house, except now we’re together and living out a perfect picture of domesticity.”

Erin snorted through her tears.

“But obviously that’s not going to happen, because even _if_ something’s gonna happen between us, it’s not gonna happen for a while. You’re just getting out of a five year relationship, and it’s going to take time for you to process that.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe even years.”

“I know.” Erin’s tears are subsiding a bit.

“You know the great thing about not being in a movie? Your life isn’t already written. In time you’ll feel freer, now that you don’t have marriage-babies-retirement all mapped out with what’s his name.”

“You’re right. I just don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Well,” Holtz said, “I know what we’re going to do right now.” She stood up and grabbed Erin’s hand to pull her to her feet as well. “We’re going to walk into your living room, and we’re going to watch some X-Files, and that is as much of a plan as you need right now.”

Holtz stopped to get Erin some water, and then they did just that. As they settled into the couch and Erin pulled up Netflix, Holtz reached out and took Erin’s hand.

“I’m going to hold your hand, because that’s what a friend would do for a friend in crisis,” she announced.

Erin said nothing, just pushed play on a random episode. They watched the opening scene in silence. It was only as the theme song started that Holtz glanced down at their linked hands.

“Your ring is gone,” she observed.

Erin looked there as well. “I, uh, threw it down the garbage disposal.”

Holtz shook her head. “See, that was a mistake. Now you lost out on the money you could’ve made selling it, and you’ve probably broken the garbage disposal in the process.”

“I’m not too worried,” said Erin, “I know a great handyman.”

***

_Five years later_

Erin swung the sledgehammer into the drywall, sending up a cloud of dust as she broke through.

Holtz took another step back and slung her crowbar over her shoulder. “Good one!”

Erin looked back at her through her safety goggles. “I’m getting better at this!”

Holtz grinned in response. “You’re doing great, babe.”

Erin turned back to the wall and swung again. Holtz watched her put her all into it. Were there sleeker ways of taking a wall down? Absolutely. Did Holtz care? No.

Erin paused and wiped sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. “Can I take a break?”

“No. Never.”

Erin set the tool down and gave Holtz a shove.

“Hey, now you got drywall dust all over my shirt!”

“It’s everywhere anyway.”

Holtz stuck her tongue out. “Come on, Demolition Diva, let’s go get you a drink.”

Erin pulled her work gloves off and let them fall to the plastic-covered ground. “Whose idea was it to sell a perfectly good house and buy a fixer-upper, again?”

“Yours, hon. All yours.”

Erin pushed her safety goggles to the top of her head. “That is _not_ true. I would’ve been happy buying a new build, and you know that.”

They made their way to the kitchen, which had been completed during the first phase of renovations. Erin took a seat at the table while Holtz poured her a glass of iced tea from the pitcher in the fridge. She sat across from her and pushed the glass towards her.

Erin took a big gulp and set it back down. “You’re the best.”

“I’m aware.”

Erin drummed her fingers on the sturdy oak, and light from the low-hanging chandelier glinted off the ring on her left hand. Holtz smiled to herself. She never got tired of seeing it there. Smaller than the one that came before it, but Erin concurred it was more her taste. It melded together with the simpler band nestled beside it.

“Come on, drink up,” Holtz said. “I’d like to get that wall down by lunch.”

Erin groaned. “Can’t you do it?”

“I’m saving my energy for the more difficult tasks later.”

“This is hard!”

“Yes. You’re right. It is. But I mean technical difficulty. Like, skill level.”

“This takes skill!”

“Erin, I love you, but no.”

Erin pouted. “I’m going to go on strike to protest unfair working conditions.”

“I’ll join you.”

“What are you striking about? You haven’t done anything!”

“I did the entire kitchen!”

“I helped. I picked out the cabinets and tile and countertops and just about everything else.”

“And I installed them, yeah.”

“If I knew marrying a handyman was going to be like this, I never would’ve done it.”

“Hashtag not all handymen.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Seriously, help me out with the wall.”

“Okay, but only if you agree to tear up the bathtub when we get to the bathroom in a few weeks.”

Erin’s face contorted. “Oh.”

“How ‘bout after you finish this, you can go back to picking out the paint colours for our new open-concept living area?”

Erin considered that. “But breaking stuff is kinda fun.”

Holtz dropped her head into her hands. “Good Lord, woman, I can’t keep up with you.”

“I want to keep demolishing stuff, but I want you to help.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “You committed to teamwork forever, remember?”

“Forever’s such a long tiiiime.” Holtz reached across the table and grabbed Erin’s hand in hers, giving it a kiss for good measure. “I’ll help you out. Can you blame me for standing back and admiring the view, though? You look hot tearing down a wall.”

“That is neither here nor there.”

“It’s very important.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“And yet, you married me.”

“You weren’t my first choice.” Erin smirked over the rim of her iced tea.

“Buuuuurn. You take that back.”

“No.”

“Erin Gilbert, I swear, take it back or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

Holtz got up and climbed into Erin’s lap, straddling her. “Take it back.”

“Or?”

Holtz hooked a finger under Erin’s chin and tilted it up, then dipped her head down so there was only an inch of space between their faces. She studied Erin for a few moments, then closed the distance to kiss her.

When she broke away after a few seconds, Erin looked a little dazed. “I take it back. You were my first choice.”

“Damn straight.” Holtz swung her leg and dismounted Erin’s lap. She extended a hand to Erin. “Now come on, this house isn’t going to remodel itself.”

Erin took her hand with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end! To be honest, this fic went in a lot of directions that I wasn't expecting, but hey, they'll do that. Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Stay tuned for a new fic from me sometime in the near future. I'm so goddamn excited about the idea and how it's coming along that I won't shut up about it! If you come follow me on Tumblr you'll probably hear a lot about it.
> 
> Until next time :)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr?](http://jillbert.tumblr.com)


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